Dedicated to South Padre Island, Onward through the Fog, and the Great Whatever.

Friday, January 28, 2005

Resolved: More Sportz

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions but it had crossed my mind I could be in better shape. One of the reasons to move down there was not only the great beach lifestyle but also that I might crawl out from behind the computer and actually get some exersize. I have to use the computer for my environmental consulting business, and when not working I'm doing proposals, waiting for an email with work in it, or during the meantime fooling with blogs and webs and ordering on-line. There's nothing like a big move to make you come out of your shell, so to speak.

Beach walking, building a deck, body surfing, and swimming sound good for starters. Easy, low-impact stuff. After slow-walking a mile for a while I'll probably pick up the pace and start speed walking for two; never know, I might break into a slacker jog or something. That'll help give me those sexy calf muscles that all the locals seem to have down there.

I must say I have a love-hate relationship with sports, though, so count me out. I played tennis and got tennis elbow. I swam in the summer league and whacked my head doing the backstroke. I ran track in high school and got shin splints. I played soccer and got kicked real bad in the "technicals." I played football as a 125-pound tackle and got whacked by green giants from a 5-A team. I tried wrestling but got beat up by skinny bantam boxers. I got to hate all organized sports such as football, basketball, baseball, volleyball, and even bowling. Even today, just don't ask me to play those kinds of hooey. You can't blame me entirely; I was getting steam-rolled every time.

Sailing, now that wasn't even a sport but I sure liked that one.

This isn't to say I wasn't fit, at least there for a good while. I used to have a fancy 10-speed bicycle and could out-run the cops anywhere downtown by UT; I could pull a "wheely" for at least five strokes; I was Lance in cut-off pants. I could row like the devil in a real rowboat, although these new skinny "shells" seemed dangerous to me. I was in construction for years and could hang a 4 x 8 sheet of 5/8 sheetrock on the ceiling by myself - and put up a stack of about 75 to 100 a day, at that. Oh, and I guess being a pretty darn-tootin' tuba player did something for me, too.

What happened, Sammy

Well we all know the answer to that. Some night between age 40 and 45 your bod says "I wanna go this direction" and boom, there's a tummy sticking out like a stranger in a strange land. You wake up one morning and say "what da ... who are you?" At least the good Lord lets you sleep when it happens. Can you imagine being awake when it happens? Fooom!